A Trust Worth Saving
by annieplus7
Summary: Ballroom dance instructor, Gajeel, has lost another partner for an upcoming competition due to his aggressive nature. When a new ballet instr. shows up in Fairy Tail Studio, he jumps on the opportunity to train with her and to prove he is talented enough to win. However, this new hire is not so easily won over to help her coworker due to tragic past experiences in the limelight.
1. Chapter 1

**Some vocabulary for those who wish to understand!**

 **VOCABULARY LESSON  
**

 **Barre** **: French for bar - it is also called a ballet barre - it is the bar dancers use to warmup and stretch (not just for ballerinas/os).  
**

 **Lead** **: in a paired dance, the male is called a 'lead' (L-ee-d)(Not 'Led')  
**

 **Follow** **: in a paired dance, the female is called a 'follow'  
**

 **Tendu** **: barre exercise - working leg points forward, to the side, and behind  
**

 **Relevé** **: rise up - from a flat foot to pointe or demi-pointe  
**

 **Grande Plié** **: it's just a really deep plié  
**

 **Demi-pointe** **: to stand on the balls of your feet  
**

 **Pointe** **: literally to stand on the tops of your toes**

 **DANCE LESSON**

 **The lead's job is to lead his follow through the choreography.  
**

 **The follow's job is to follow the leader. She 'reacts' to what the lead wants her to do.  
**

 **So, say there is an opening in the choreography for an improvisation. It is the lead's job to fill that opening with what he feel's they can do AND DO WELL.  
**

 **End Lesson.**  
 **=)**

* * *

Chapter 1

"Juvia's sorry, Mira. Juvia can't keep doing this."

Fairy Tail Studio's had recently acquired a female gold medalist dancer from Phantom Lord mere weeks ago in the hopes to bring in more talent to the studio.

"Juvia? What happened?!"

The blunette hobbled out of the studio in anger, her bag over one shoulder and her dance shoes in hand. Mira stepped around her desk and down the hall to the studio doors. She stomped through the entry, confronting their abusive instructor.

"Gajeel! What did you do?!"

The perpetrator stood leaning against the _barre,_ a scowl on his face.

"Hell you want, demon?"

The studio administrator marched up to her most recent thorn, stabbing her finger into his chest.

"How many more dancers are you going to injure? Juvia makes three in a month! You cannot toss them around like rag dolls you—"

She cut off her insult when she noticed the studio actually held a class.

"Relax, demon. Just hire a new girl."

She snorted at his superficial resolution.

"Gajeel, there aren't anymore girls willing to partner with you. You'll have to sit this competition out until—"

"What?!" he interrupted.

"UNTIL we hear back from the other applicants." _If there are any left_ , she added mentally.

He grew furious and moved to stand over her, a physical show of intimidation. The white-haired girl stood her ground and crossed her arms in front of her, unafraid of the hulking man.

His expression broke into a 'tsk' as he stormed out of the studio, rounding the corner towards the showers.

Mira appointed Lisanna as substitute instructor for the remainder of their class while she turned to follow the combatant, preparing to give him a thorough scolding. She had exhausted her resources to pull talent in from anywhere Master Makarov told her too, but even he had to admit there were not many places left to scout.

The office bell rung and Mira rushed to her post, forgetting Gajeel had eluded his reprimand. She first thought that Juvia had come back, but when she had to look down to see the blunette, she realized her mistake.

"Hi, can I help you?" she asked, approaching the counter opposite the girl.

"Hi, I'm Levy McGarden. I received an email that Fairy Tail had an opening for an Instructor?" she inquired.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Mira gave her a dazzling smile in response and said, "We do have an opening! We usually finish the paperwork online, so since your here now, would you be willing to warm-up a class?"

The blunette was surprised at the sudden offer of work and accepted without hesitation.

"I still have my clothes in the car, would it be okay if I dressed out?"

Levy was currently in the process of moving back to Magnolia since graduating college. If it weren't for her cat, Pantherlily, spilling her drink over her computer she would have accepted the job days ago instead of waiting to move into town to accept in-person.

The white-haired employee gave her consent and Levy left to collect her dance clothes.

Gajeel had been out of the shower with his gear in hand within minutes. He waited in the hall behind the front desk, the optimal locál for eavesdropping. A new instructor? He had to see. He seized the moment and walked past the desk, halting when no such person was present.

"Yes, Gajeel?" the match-maker demon queried, a tone of false sweetness in her voice.

There was no way he'd reveal such naive curiosity to the paper-pusher, but the strange voice had a magnetic lilt to it: sincere and polite, but an undertone that belied her commanding nature. He liked this new girl.

"New hire?" he caved, eyeing the woman.

She gave a light chuckle and replied, "Yup, she came in early. She's taking over your class."

He stared at the scrawny child walking in through the main door with a well-worn gym bag. No, 'child' was wrong. Her curvaceous hips rocked him to his core, signally her maturity. He took in her physique; strong muscles, thin waist, and a fairy-like quality to her face and air. Her hair was cut in wild angles and he resisted the urge to tug on the strands.

His internal examination was interrupted when the object of his thoughts had tripped over an invisible item, widening her relaxed expression into surprise. His instincts took over and Gajeel stepped into her, catching her in an embrace and saving her head from a blow to the corner of Mira's desk.

Gajeel had already set the little woman on steady feet when Mira jumped up, a late reaction to the situation.

"Watch it, Shrimp," he grunted, releasing the clumsy girl a little too late.

"Thanks," she replied, slightly out of breath, recovering from her accident.

Levy rubbed the goosebumps off her arms and darted towards the signs that signified studio changing rooms.

The skin on Gajeel's arm tingled where the girl had touched him. He stared after her figure had disappeared behind the closed door. He should have been more clever, or asked her name, at least.

"That's Levy," Mira supplied.

"Levy...," he mumbled, filing away her name to remember later.

"Your replacement?"

"What?" he snapped.

"She's the new hire. She's taking over your class until the next competition," the white-haired female reminded him tiredly. Had he not been listening?

He straightened with her words and narrowed his eyes, accepting whatever internal challenge he had dared himself to defeat. He had definitely not been listening to her.

"Like hell she's my replacement," he retorted, swinging his bag off his shoulder and running back into the men's showers to revert back into his dance attire.

Mira could see the glimpse of cleverness that played before her eyes. Master was indeed a smart man to have picked such a girl to be Gajeel's partner.

* * *

Levy had finished outfitting herself in her dance wear. Her new tan tights lay snug beneath a layer of old thigh-high socks, the toes of which long since worn out and unraveled. She slipped on the black leather forefoot coverings. She didn't like the common restrictive slippers. She was much more free to dance this way.

She locked up her things in the #9 locker and walked out to the front desk to be pointed towards her awaiting class. There wasn't much to warming up. It was just basic stretches and movements to warm the body. She had done so many times before, but still felt anxious at the thought of having to lead a group. She didn't want to embarrass herself.

The kind woman at the desk was currently on the phone and did not notice Levy approach. She did, however, recognize her savior from before, but he was now dressed in black sweats and a white tank top. His binding muscles were mostly hidden, but she ogled what he allowed her to see. He leaned against the counter, appearing to wait for someone, facing the direction of the showers. Could he have been waiting for her?

"Yer the new shrimp?" he grinned maniacally.

His derogatory slur ruffled her feathers and she replied in a biting manner, "yes."

"Good. Yer with me."

He strolled down a long hall with many doors leading left and right. She assumed they were all studios. He approached an open door, and peeked inside to ensure it was empty. He walked up to the stereo first, selecting a playlist.

"I thought I was supposed to help with a class?" she backtracked. She certainly didn't want to get in trouble before she even started her new job.

"They start in an hour. This is where they meet. Studio G," he pointed to a spot over her head and she followed the direction, seeing both the sign and clock. She looked around the room and took note of the supplies in the studio. There was a wooden box filled with rosin shavings for the days the pointe slippers needed to be not so smooth. She did step into it though, twisting her ankle around to coat the padding. It was a ritual she felt necessary to perform for good luck.

She eyed her male companion suspiciously as he was taking a long while to select music. She sat on the floor and pulled herself into her usual floor stretches, holding each position for a count of ten. When she settled herself into a full center split did the music play. It was an odd electronic noise, but the music itself wasn't what she wanted. As a professional dancer, she liked the consistent beat it provided, like a glorified metronome.

Satisfied with her loose muscles, she approached the barre and stepped into first position. She stretched the arches of her feet before centering her body and dipping into a grande plié. She resolutely ignored the unsettling stare the muscular man was yielding, but when she repeated her tendus en demi-pointe relevé, it became offensive.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to stare?" she quipped, still following her barre routine.

A small smile flashed across his face before he resumed his dour look, "This ain't ballet. It's ballroom."

She furrowed her brow, "I'm just warming up."

"What can ya do?" he asked, seemingly interested in speaking to her now.

"A lot."

He raised a pierced brow at her as if to say, _prove it_. He was actually asking what she danced.

She rolled her eyes and clarified, "I applied for this position to teach the ballet classes. But I also know some ballroom. Waltz and Latin mostly."

"Do you compete?"

His question distracted her and she lost count of how many grande battement tendus she had done.

"No," she snapped.

It was a simple answer, but he seemed to wilt when she said it. She did not like the idea of being compared to other dancers. Levy danced to feel good, not to be the best. She felt a little regret for the way her answer made him react.

"I'm Levy," she offered more gently, still in relevé. She held out her hand to the grumpy dancer.

He took her little hand, and gave it a light shake. An odd warmth settled in her chest when he did so. She liked this man.

"Gajeel."

Levy relaxed her pose, letting her heels come down and touch the floor in fifth position. At her normal height, she was a few inches shy of his shoulder. It was a noticeable difference to have to look up at him.

The grip of his hand changed and he lead her to the center of the empty studio. He fumbled in his pocket for the stereo remote, pushing a series of buttons before returning it to his pocket. A dark, gentle piano came over the speakers and she immediately recognized the triple time of a waltz. So he really wanted to see what she could do?

He turned to her, holding her in a distant embrace. Gajeel was not a gentle partner. Quite the opposite. He was aggressive and demanding, giving signals that were too fast or too hard. They usually ended up falling and when left exposed, injured by another couple, like in Juvia's case. He was angry and impatient and it showed in his abuse. He wanted to be recognized, to be seen as a formidable dancer, but his follows never obeyed. They did not trust him.

Gajeel wanted to test this new girl. She appeared capable and she already knew the core of the dance he had been preparing. It was now a matter of whether or not she was willing to trust him.

Levy watched Gajeel's mouth count off the beats. The intro wound down and she rose onto the balls of her feet. Ballroom dances usually required high-heeled dance shoes, but since she wore none today, it would have to do. Not to mention, it helped mend the difference in their heights. She felt his hand under her right shoulder, raising her arm into proper form. She tilted her head to the side, baring her cheek to him.

There was an impish grin on his face when he looked down at her. She had not specified what type of waltz she knew, but if she was good, it didn't matter.

He stepped forward in beat to the music, and turned them in half as much time as Levy prepared. She was taken off-guard, but did not let it show. He was testing her, after all. It took all of Levy's strength to keep up the speed at which he lead them. It was not a waltz in the conventional sense, but a Viennese Waltz, which was purposefully fast and exaggerated. He signaled for her to spin and she did, acting as an extension to his imagination. When he leaned into her for a dip, she responded accordingly. The dance excited Levy. It felt _right_ to be in his arms. She liked the feeling of his hands on her. But more importantly, he danced divinely. She could tell he tried to be gentle, but he had too much passion to restrain himself. She smiled to herself, feeling as though she was the epitome of grace.

Gajeel was impressed, she had listened to him thus far. The song was coming to a close and he wondered if she could come up with her own movements if he set her up for it. He lead them in graceful arcs around the studio and when he moved to spin her in his arms, he let her go.

The artist in Levy was not phased by her partner's lack of presence. In fact, she soared at the opportunity and continued to spin until she naturally stopped in a classical pose.

"Be my partner."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello my loyal minions!**

 **I was very excited to get this chapter up! The plot bunnies would not go away!**

 **As always, please enjoy.**

 **=)**

* * *

Chapter 2

She turned to face the man full on. He was not smiling. He was serious.

"You want _me_ to be your partner? You mean for class right?" she was half-expecting a 'yes' from him. Not receiving the hopeful answer, she frowned.

"I don't compete," she insisted.

"You could. You know half the routine already," he pleaded. "It's not for another two weeks."

She coughed to cover her surprise, "Oh, is that all?" she said sarcastically.

Outside the Studio G doors, a crowd had formed. Students leaned over one another to catch a glimpse of the new teacher dancing with their handsome and attractively pierced instructor. In the midst of the gawping students was the front desk administrator, witnessing the transaction between the pair. While she loved a good bit to gossip about, their moment seemed to have ended and an argument was brewing. Quick to remedy the situation before it became explosive beyond repair, she entered the studio.

"Gajeel, there you are! Master would like a word with you," she interrupted. The man sputtered for a moment having been dragged off his train of thought to deal with the meddlesome desk clerk.

He grunted with disapproval and left the blunette behind. Students began pouring into the classroom, a noisy chatter filling the echoing space.

Gajeel walked past the white-haired woman and towards the front desk. Makarov's office was through the front lobby, on the opposite end of the studio where little the children's classes were held. The old man held a fondness for little kids that many considered paternal. Most of the dancers here started out in those classes, growing into adulthood and competing on behalf of the studio. But unlike most of the dancers here, he was not so lucky. He recalled most of his childhood and teenage years spent inside large, cold studios and glaring mirrors. The menacing tick of a metronome demonized the faces he saw in the reflective surfaces. A cold sweat broke over his skin when he remembered the welts and bruises he received when a performance was less than perfection. Many nights were spent in ice filled bathtubs.

He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, banishing his memories to the recesses of his mind. He had come too far to let his hard work go to waste.

He opened the plaqued door and stepped inside, not bothering to knock.

The grizzled man did not greet his student. He was examining a photo against the side wall, preparing his thoughts. An old cane rested against the corner of his desk, the handle permanently stained with oil from use. He heaved a tired sigh.

"Mira tells me Juvia won't partner with you anymore," he stated.

Gajeel remained silent, closing the door behind him.

"And that you've met our most recent acquisition?" he ended on a high note, now questioning him. Gajeel nodded in affirmation.

"I have a high respect for you and your talent," he moved around his desk and approached the studded giant, "so let me make this as clear as possible."

His presence in the room grew, and as suffocating and intense as the pressure was, Gajeel did not show signs of intimidation. The old man glared up at him with a heavy threat in his voice.

"If you trample or hurt any more of my children, I will personally deliver you back to Phantom Lord."

The depth of his seriousness was off-putting, but he took a relaxing inhale.

"You have so much talent," he shook his head in disappointment, "In regards to the competition, I've rescinded your paperwork and have granted you a two week sabbatical until you cool down. I think the stress is getting to you, boy."

"And if I already have a partner?" Gajeel challenged, raising one pierced brow.

Makarov took the news in stride, "Ms. McGarden?"

Gajeel nodded. The gray haired man snorted in response, "If you can get that girl to be your partner, then you deserve to be in the competition."

The little man chuckled to himself and sighed fondly.

"You have three days until the paperwork is finalized and you're removed. If she doesn't agree, you take a vacation. I suggest you make use of that charm your students keep gossiping about."

Gajeel smiled triumphantly, uttering a breathy 'yes'.

"Ya got it, Pops!"

He threw the door open and practically sprinted down the hall with a joyful expression scrawled across his face. When he passed the front desk, he even spared the white haired clerk a smug grin.

Makarov couldn't contain his mirth and bust into a fit of giggles. He would never sentence that poor boy back to the hell hole he found him in. But he enjoyed making him squirm. He felt confident their new ballet instructor would give him a fair run for his money if he was to ever straighten out.

"Good kid," he mumbled, taking the frame of the old photograph he had been fixing and placing it back in its faded square along the wall.

Though old, it was discernible. Many figures stood in the foreground, all miniature versions of his beloved family. In the background was the studio, old and run down. To think they had come so far since then.


	3. Chapter 3

**Vocabulary Lesson #2**

 **La Cucuracha** **\- a signature dance move in the Mambo - performed by rolling hips into a side step on beats 1 & 3**

 **Tchaikovsky** **\- Russian composer well known for the ballets: The Nutcracker and Swan Lake, among others works as well**.

* * *

Chapter 3

Since Makarov gave Gajeel permission to seek out the blue haired ballerina as his partner, a plan began to take shape in his mind.

Class was still in session for another forty-five minutes and he strolled in to find every single student at the barre, struggling to perform the shrimp's routine according to her tutelage. She adjusted pointes, body alignment, and positions as she walked up and down the long stretch of mirrors.

A Tchaikovsky ballad came over the stereo when she twisted the knob for a lower volume.

"They're all yours," she widely gestured towards the row of students who eyed him expectantly.

"Water. Pair off," he barked.

Some scrambled over one another to rush into the hall towards the water fountain, others had brought their own.

The little woman had starting moving towards the viewing platform when he grabbed her wrist.

"Where're ya goin' shorty? I said pair off."

She looked at his restraining hand in confusion.

"I'm going to watch. I was only supposed to warm-up—"

He cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Odd number people. Yer with me."

He dragged her back to the barre, relinquishing her wrist at last.

"You can't just decide for me. I don't even know what you're studying!" she protested.

"Doesn't matter. We're startin' fresh today."

His students had returned and paired off as he asked, spread equally around the room for space. The amount of eyes turned in her direction made her nervous, butterflies battering against the inside of her stomach.

"Can you Mambo?" he asked quietly, directing his question to the ballerina. He smirked when he saw her cheeks blossom with rosy color. Apparently, she did.

"We will be dancing the Mambo today," he addressed the class with a confident air, "It is a four/four beat with steps following a quick-quick-slow pattern. Like so..."

Levy reluctantly complied with the studded giant that had turned to her. The Mambo was known to be a flirtatious dance with rolling hips and showy legs; some would even describe it as raunchy. She detested having to learn it with a partner she knew well enough, so dancing it with a total stranger by no means put him on her good list. He was making a statement.

He took her hand in proper form, palms facing one another, and held her at a comfortable distance with his other hand under her shoulder. He counted the beats for his students sake, stepping into her on the second beat, and retreating on the fourth. They repeated it, and stopped, allowing the class to mimic them.

Levy counted down the time on the clock to judge how many moves he could teach before class let out. They just finished the basic steps, which was followed by an underarm turn, a change in positions, and the Cucuracha. So she wouldn't be completely humiliated on her first day.

She would not admit that, even though she knew the steps, it was still fun. She couldn't keep the smile from her face when they changed places with a double turn. There was something about him that exuded a contagious energy. Of course, she was always happy to dance, but he didn't try to cop a feel and he kept the atmosphere professional. It was a relief to not be hit on and she removed him from her shit list. He had probably had the dance lined up before he ever knew her, so it was just coincidence that she happened to be there.

When class was dismissed, she waited for the majority of students to file out before she spoke. He had moved to the stereo to fiddle with the music selection.

"You're a wonderful instructor," she conceded. He turned slightly and tipped his head to her in a 'thank you'.

"I just wanted to thank you for letting me join your class. I had fun," she gave him a small smile, a little disappointed she would not be returning, but more so relieved that she would not be returning. She flitted out into the hall towards the clerk, only to pause when the studded man called for her to wait. He caught up to her and an awkward silence fell over them. She gave a light giggle to break the uneasiness.

"Did you want to say something..?" she hinted.

He blanched, suddenly remembering himself, "I'm actually done for the day. And Mira said you were new in town. I was wondering if you might want to get something to eat? With me?"

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, trying to play off his nervousness as casual conversation. She was touched by his invitation until she remembered her truck.

"I-I actually can't. I need to move the rest of my stuff into my apartment this afternoon. My landlady is watching my cat for me," she stuttered at first and tried to let him down gently.

She recalled the couch strapped down in the back of her truck along with her horde of boxed books. Her dad had helped her load the couch, but she hadn't given much thought to how she was going to get it unloaded again. She clenched her hands behind her back, hoping her request wouldn't cross some kind of line.

"Uh...maybe instead, you could help me move into my apartment? Just the couch, really, because it's heavy and I don't exactly have any muscle," she gestured awkwardly to his musculature, which she had been intentionally ignoring while pointing it out, making her feel like the lamest person ever since they had just met, so she tried to tack on an incentive, "I'll pay you back with lunch, if you do."

To her surprise, he accepted.

"Sure, shrim—"

"Hey, Metal Breath! Let's go!"

A male voice called to Gajeel from the lobby. Within the second, a wiry boy with pink hair joined them.

"Hey! You're new. I'm Natsu. I teach the children's dance classes."

Levy held out her hand and he shook it, "Levy. Ballet instructor."

"Natsu! I have another class in 30! You owe me."

A curvaceous blonde in a sports bra and ponytail bounced into the pinkette, grabbing him by the arm until she noticed Levy.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Lucy. Aerobics instructor and temporary ballet instructor."

Levy shook her hand as well, feeling quite welcome.

"I'm Levy, the permanent ballet instructor."

Lucy's eyes widened as she clapped her hands together.

"Thank Mavis you're here!" she grabbed Levy into a tight hug, "I was starting to think you would never come! You _have_ to have lunch with us. Natsu's treat."

The pinkette gave a strangled cough to suppress his disapproval.

"We have plans, bunny girl," the giant interjected on Levy's behalf. While she would have liked to get to know her coworkers, she really had to rescue her cat.

"Then next time for sure," the blonde responded with a smile, barely veiling her surprised expression. She grabbed Natsu by his hand and drug him out of the building.

"They're really nice," Levy commented. Gajeel shrugged in response.

"I have to get my stuff. So, I'll meet you outside?" she started walking backwards towards the women's changing rooms, receiving a toothy grin and nod from Gajeel.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Fer someone who lives 'lone, ya sure have a lotta stuff, shorty."

Gajeel had made himself at home on her couch, flopping onto it with booted feet hanging over the back and armrest. Her apartment was fairly small, but now that all of her furniture was situated, and strewn about with moving boxes, it was like playing a crazy game to try and find a safe trail to walk through. She shuffled through the kitchen, leaping over a large box of pots.

"I think it's just because I haven't put anything away. Thanks for helping with my couch though. It wasn't too heavy was it?"

Gajeel wouldn't not reveal that he had almost crushed her with the couch when she wasn't looking, and in fact had almost crushed himself in the process of preventing her death.

"Nah."

Moving her in had given him a rather intimate look into her lifestyle. Her kitchen supplies (or lack thereof) told him she didn't cook much. She also had an absurd amount of books. Almost every single box he could see into had books. He hadn't seen any of her clothes, though they might already be hidden away in her bedroom.

"Oh shit, what time is it?!"

Startled by her urgency, he pulled out his phone and unlocked the screen.

"15 minutes past 4."

Wow. Had he really been here since noon?

"Crap balls, my cat!"

She stumbled over boxes and books in her haste, flying out the door. He jumped up and chased after her, grabbing his keys from the counter and slamming the door shut, trying to keep up. He followed her bobbing blue head until she reached the building labeled 'Front Office', and there she knocked furiously against a glass door, rattling it in its frame.

A brown haired, middle-aged woman in a grey suit opened the door, where she passed a black feline to eager hands. Gajeel could hear her fervent apologies from a good distance away. The woman did not appear angry or even slightly put off. She closed the door between them with a small wave goodbye as Levy approached where Gajeel was standing.

She wore a radiant smile and offered apologetic coos to the little animal, who in turn greeted her with affection, rubbing it's head under her chin.

"Gajeel, this is Pantherlily, my cat," she offered the black feline to him to hold.

He leaned away from the glaring animal that growled menacingly, doubtful it was safe to take it in his arms.

"Maybe...later? He doesn't seem...happy," he pointed to the cat's face and she turned the feline around, unaware of the hateful transaction.

"Oh. I'm sorry," she cuddled the little beast to her chest and started walking down the path towards her apartment. Gajeel followed.

"So I guess I owe you that lunch now, huh?"

He chuckled darkly, "Or...you could be my partner for that competition coming up."

He watched her out of the corner of his eye and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"I'd rather owe you lunch," she grumbled.

"I don't know, that couch was pretty heavy. Might be worth a little more than lunch, to be honest," he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. It was more for show than anything.

She hummed to herself, now pondering her options. She was quiet until they reached the door to her apartment and Gajeel was worried he might have pushed his luck too far. When she opened it, her cat pounced into the nearest box, declaring war on its contents.

She turned to him in the door frame, blocking his entrance. He had definitely overstepped a line.

"How about a compromise? I'll step in as your partner when you need me in class."

He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly dissatisfied.

"I appreciate your help, I really do, but you don't want me as your partner," she stated, a hint of sadness in her voice, "I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, she closed the door on him.

Gajeel walked away with a smile on his face. He may have lost today's battle, but the war was not over. He shoved his hands into his pockets, jingling his keys as he walked to the parking lot. He still had another two days, after all.

* * *

Levy riffled through a pile of leftover CDs near the stereo. According to Mira, Levy was not scheduled to work for another hour, which led her to filling out her employment paperwork, which took all of five minutes.

She had been assigned a studio, Studio M, and she wanted to take the time to get to know her new home. The rosin box by the door was in need of new shavings and she made a mental note to ask about it after work. The floor was recently swept and the stereo was up-to-date. She would have to remember to bring her iPod for the next class.

She had closed the doors to her studio to deter onlookers and popped a familiar CD into the open tray, pushing play. Lively notes of a piano drifted from the speakers and surrounded her in a grounding embrace. Her body automatically pulled her through her floor stretches, pushing her limits until a deep burn in her muscles ignited. She used the next two songs to prep herself.

When she was certain she was ready, she languidly positioned her body center-stage, turning into a well-worn pose. She was waiting for this particular song, it had haunted her for years.

A tired voice came over the speakers, too lazy to fully enunciate the lyrics. It triggered an internal countdown, submerging the ballerina into a different world. It was like dancing underwater. She knew the choreography so well that she did not need to check her form. She closed her eyes against the fluorescent lights and further pulled herself into her world of motion and heat and sound. She danced with her soul, feeling it swell in her chest and overflow through her fingertips. She poured her frustration and sorrow into her dance, using her emotions as the driving force behind every pointe, every turn, and every dip.

She was not alone in her blind world. She eventually came to the change of tone in the song that her partner would have stepped in at. Old tears spilled down her face as the ghost of her former partner completed the dance with her. She positioned her hands accordingly, imagining he was still leading her through the steps.

When the song began to fade, Levy stopped. The original dance required an intimate embrace, but as her partner was not present, she omitted the final pose entirely.

She opened her eyes, clearing her face of the teary evidence. A single round of applause behind startled her and she whirled around to find the dark studded giant in the door frame.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey minions, I am really sorry this update is late.  
But! Lady Inspiration has graced me with her gift! I'm hard at work with chapter 6, so get ready!  
Btw, BIG thank you to fairytail-ships and kiss-me-khaos for being such wonderful BETA's. =)**

 **Peach loves you for all your hardwork and time.**

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 **Vocabulary Lesson #2**

 **Pirouette : to spin on one foot (either pointe or demi-pointe) with the raised foot touching the supporting leg's knee with the knee turned out**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 5

Her anger flared at his mocking gesture and she glowered at him. She moved to the stereo and changed CDs, now preparing for her class.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he stated, approaching her from the side.

"That's a terrible apology," she spat.

He shuffled his feet and leaned against the wall.

"You're a great dancer," he began. She shot daggers in his direction, cutting off his pitch.

"No."

She could not convey just how much she hated him in that moment. He had intruded on her moment, distracted her from penance.

"I don't want to be your partner," she included.

He smirked, "Wasn't gonna ask ya."

That would be another mistaken assumption on her part. He turned to walk out, but she called to him.

"Did you...need something? Here?" she folded her arms over her chest.

Without him in the room, the cold air stung, and the expansive walls suddenly became unbearably distant.

He looked at her with a haughty expression, "Thought _you_ might want a partner."

His eyes drifted to the area of the room where she had recently vacated. He was implying that he would step in for her routine. Little did he know she required no one else.

"That's the same as asking if I'll be your partner," she pointed out. Didn't he have something better to do than badger her?

His face twisted into an expression of thought. He shrugged, as if to say 'oh well' and retreated out the door.

She stared after him, frowning at his absence and eventually dragged herself away to put her pointe shoes on.

She sat on the floor nearest the stereo and pulled the worn satin over her feet. Though her feet were bruised and bony, to her they were a sign of strength. She loved ballet, had practiced it since she was a little girl.

She fastened the ribbon over her ankle and pulled a pair of warmers over them to keep her muscles pliable. They unrolled up to her thigh, just under her spandex shorts.

She waddled to a decent opening in the mirror, practicing pirouettes.

But he couldn't bring himself to leave, not yet. He waited, again, with his back against the door, peeking around the frame to watch her through the mirror. He admired the ballerina's strength.

Unintentionally, he released a sigh, observing her turns on pointed toes. She was a graceful creature and calming to watch.

"Hey Gajeel!"

The giant man jerked as he had been caught. A little girl with midnight blue hair standing as tall as his waist approached him with pink slippers in hand.

He smirked as Fairy Tail's up and coming child prodigy hugged him tightly.

"Hey kid," he greeted, patting her back.

Wendy recently graduated to the adult classes to keep up with her talent and had grown attached to Gajeel.

He frequently tutored her after hours in anything she had found interesting or particularly difficult, but it was time well spent. She was a highlight to his evenings spent alone.

"Are we meeting again tonight?" she asked while tying her long pigtails up into severe buns. She was prepping for Levy's class.

"No. Didn't Carla tell ya t'take it easy for a week?"

Her guardian, Carla, was quite strict when it came to Wendy's classes. The little girl was known for dancing through broken bones.

She twisted her smile into a disappointed frown. Apparently, she didn't know Carla had talked to him about canceling their sessions for awhile.

A sudden thought came to him. He leaned down, and whispered in her ear to avoid being overheard.

She gave him a mischievous grin, delighted by his plan, and flitted to the ballerina's class.

It was a genius idea. Now, he just had to get Bunny Girl in on it.

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"Okay! Well done, guys. See you Monday."

Levy dismissed her last class of the day, waving her good byes. One or two students stuck around to perfect a pose at the barre, but most left.

She didn't expect them to know her right away, but she also didn't expect stony cold silence. It would probably take a few classes until they warmed to her. It wouldn't be so awkward then.

She took a seat near the stereo and unlaced her pointe slippers. She was exhausted, and in dire need of a shower. She collected her things and picked herself off the floor, stepping out of the studio and walking down the hall towards the women's changing room.

When she reached her locker, she retrieved her phone, unlocking it to see the time: 7:04 pm.

"Hey!"

Levy looked up to see the aerobics instructor coming in the door and undress at her own locker.

"Hi," she answered timidly, avoiding her suddenly naked body. Levy was a little more self-conscious and didn't strip in front of other people, so she took her clean clothes into the shower with her, turning the water on.

"So! How did you like your classes?"

Apparently, the curvy blonde was chatty. Levy wet her hair and lathered a dollop of shampoo into her curls, massaging her scalp.

"Um...fine?" she answered. She had never had a conversation in the shower before. It was a weird experience.

"Just 'fine'?" she asked. Levy heard the rustling of a shower curtain and another shower-head come on in a nearby stall.

"Well, I don't think they're used to my style of teaching. I think it's going to take some time. To get used to me, I mean."

Levy was now rinsing the suds off from her strawberry scented body wash, shutting off the water when her hair was clear of soap. She towel-dried her dripping locks, wiping herself down before stepping into a pair of lavender colored panties.

"You know, a couple of us are going to get some drinks. Just instructors. You should come. Meet everyone."

Levy paused with her head stuck in her t-shirt. She couldn't remember the last time she had been invited to go out.

"Where at?" she called, pushing her arms into the long sleeves.

"Cait Shelter. On Fifth Street. You in?"

Her question came out much clearer since Lucy had shut off the water flow. Levy poked her head out of the curtain, seeing that Lucy had done the same and they grinned at one another.

"I'm game."


End file.
